


The White Feather

by richmahogany



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1463653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richmahogany/pseuds/richmahogany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a desperate situation, Harold gets hold of a gun. But will he pull the trigger?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The White Feather

It would never have happened if their latest case hadn’t developed with a speed that neither of them had anticipated. The Machine had given them the number of Veronica Hong, who worked as a chambermaid at a cheap hotel in Yonkers. Finch had delved into her background, but found no hint of criminal activity or even suspicious associates. Neither was it clear why anybody would want to harm her. Veronica was single, had no children or other family, worked at her job, went to Tai Chi class on Wednesdays, met her friends for coffee and led a completely unremarkable life. Reese had spent a day hanging around the hotel, watching her, but nothing out of the ordinary had happened. When Reese managed to clone her phone, however, he and Finch quickly realized why she might be in danger, because she chatted about it freely to her many friends. A few days ago David Varese, one of the city’s most prominent businessmen, had enjoyed what Finch called “an assignation” at the hotel with a woman who was definitely not his wife. Veronica had walked in on them in the morning, because they had forgotten the “Do not disturb” sign.

“David Varese,” Finch explained as he taped the man’s picture to the screen, “has built his business empire not on his own money, but partly on his wife’s and partly on his father-in-law’s. Hers is a very conservative family, and they will not look kindly on any indiscretion. An affair like this would certainly be grounds for divorce, and if his wife leaves, she will take her money and her father’s with her, and Varese would be ruined. So he has every reason to keep his…adventures secret.”

“She’s blackmailing him,” said Reese, tapping Veronica Hong’s photo.

“There’s no evidence of that. I gather from her phone conversations that she regards the whole thing as a big joke. She hasn’t made any contact with Varese so far.”

“If Varese only thinks she might blackmail him, that would be reason enough to get rid of her. You know how paranoid these super-rich types can be.”

Finch glared at him, but Reese ignored it and continued: “Looks like I should go and find out what Varese is up to. Maybe a visit from Mr Rooney is in order.”

Finch agreed and decided that in this case it was time for him to do a bit of fieldwork himself. “Someone should keep an eye on Miss Hong, and since the hotel does not have much in the shape of a modern security system, there are hardly any cameras to tap into. One of us will have to be there in person, and since you are going to be busy investing other people’s money, I guess it will have to be me.”

So asset manager John Rooney made an appointment for the next afternoon to chat with David Varese about investing a large sum of money in one of his most profitable businesses (one of the big players in the weight-loss industry). Meanwhile, travelling sales representative Harold Spurling pulled up at the hotel in Yonkers in a dusty 5-year-old Chevy and booked himself into room No. 26.

It was just after Reese’s meeting with Varese that they realized that things had already progressed much further than they could have guessed. Reese had managed to clone Varese’s cell, and he had hardly left the businessman’s office when he got to listen to the first call. What he heard made his blood run cold. He immediately called Finch.

“Listen, you need to get Veronica out of there. Varese has hired a contract killer to get rid of her, and he’s headed to the hotel right now.”

“But Miss Hong isn’t here at the moment. She’s on her break. I believe she has gone to the coffee shop down the road, but I’m not sure.”

“Grab her as soon as she comes back. Look for back exits, fire escapes, any possible escape route. You need to take her to your car and leave. I’m on my way.” With that Reese cut the call.

Finch took a deep breath. He was on his own now. He opened the door and looked into the corridor. He already knew that there was a fire exit at the end of it, leading to a back staircase down to the ground floor. There didn’t seem to be any other exits, but to make sure he went to the other end of the corridor. No, there was nothing there. He went back to his room. From the window he could overlook the entrance, so he would see Miss Hong when she came back.

He had to wait for 20 minutes until he saw her crossing the parking lot. He went downstairs to meet her.

Veronica was surprised when the man from No. 26 approached her in the lobby. She had seen him before – he had passed her in the corridor twice earlier that day, and she had noticed him particularly, not just because of his limp, but because he had smiled at her and said “good morning”. Most guests pretended they didn’t see her at all. She was even more surprised when he addressed her by name.

“Miss Hong,” he said, “sorry to bother you, but could you possibly come up to my room? I have spilled something and managed to make a rather large stain on the carpet I’m afraid – do you think you could help me clean it up?” And then her surprise went up to a whole new level when he whispered to her: “You’re in danger – we need to get out of here.” She stared at him in disbelief. “Danger? Why? What’s happening?”

He quickly explained: “That man you surprised in his room – with a woman – he thinks you’re going to blackmail him. Or let the secret out otherwise. Either way, he’s made arrangements to have you killed, here at the hotel.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe you! That can’t be true! Is this some kind of trick? Who are you?”

“Please,” Finch urged her, “I came here to help you. I’ll explain it all later, but you have to believe me! I’ve got a car, and we…” He suddenly broke off. Behind them a car was pulling into the parking lot. If that was the killer, they couldn’t get to Finch’s car now. The only way was back upstairs. He turned to Veronica: “Come with me, please! We have to hide!” She clearly still didn’t really believe him, but neither did she believe that he meant any harm, so she followed him up the stairs. There was no time to go all the way to his room, so he made her open the nearest door with her passkey. He motioned for her to sit down on the bed and positioned himself behind the door to listen for noises in the corridor. He heard someone come up the stairs and walk slowly past. Then there was the sound of another door opening and closing. He breathed a sigh of relief. It had just been another guest going to his room. Cautiously he opened the door and looked up and down the corridor. There was no one to be seen. He signalled to Veronica to follow him quietly. They were almost at the stairs when the fire exit opened. A man entered the corridor – a man holding a gun. Veronica shrieked, and in her panic rushed back into the room. Finch had no choice but to follow her. He banged the door shut behind them and locked it, but he knew it would only be moments until the killer broke it down. Veronica had barricaded herself in the bathroom. Finch’s only hope was to somehow stall the killer until help arrived. He knew Reese was on his way, but he had no idea how long it would take him to get here. He flinched as the first kick made the door shudder. Frantically he looked around for something to defend himself with. There was nothing on the table, and only a small lamp on the nightstand. The room was occupied by someone, but the guest hadn’t left anything usable. Or so he thought until he opened the nightstand drawer, and found a revolver. Finch hesitated, but then overcame his revulsion and took it. He knew it was the only thing that might give him a chance. He checked that it was loaded, sat down facing the door, cocked it, and waited.

Thirty seconds later the doorframe finally gave in, the door flew open, and the killer walked in – only to find a revolver pointed straight at him.

For a few long moments the two men stared at each other. Then Finch said: “Put your gun down or I’ll shoot.”

 Instead the killer took a step towards him. “I’ll shoot!” Finch repeated. The killer grinned and took another step. Finch gripped the revolver tighter. He had to pull the trigger now to stop this killer and save Veronica, to save himself, but he didn’t. His mind had gone completely blank. He watched helplessly as the killer simply pushed his arms aside and moved towards the bathroom. Desperately, acting purely on instinct now, Finch tried to block the killer’s way to the bathroom door, but without the gun he would be no match for the bigger man.

What happened next would always be something of a blur to Finch. Something – someone – suddenly appeared from behind, knocking the killer to the floor. A gun went off with a deafening crash, and in the ensuing scuffle Finch was thrown onto the floor.

The next thing he remembered was sitting up against the headboard of the bed, dizzy and struggling for breath, and John bending over him asking if he was alright. He could only nod and point towards the bathroom to indicate where Veronica was hiding. He was dimly aware of Reese calling Carter to tell her that she could collect one would-be murderer, currently lying on the floor, still unconscious, with his hands tied behind his back. Reese also told her to question the killer closely about the man who had ordered the hit and promised to supply some evidence if necessary. But Finch was too shaken to really take any of this in.

Eventually – he never knew how they got there - they were both sitting the in car that Reese had procured for the occasion. It was obvious that Finch was in no condition to drive, so Reese decided to deal with the Chevy tomorrow. He was anxious to get Finch back to the library. While he was driving he cast concerned glances at his partner. Finch hadn’t said a word to him. He just sat there, completely withdrawn. He had removed his tie and undone a couple of buttons on his shirt, which somehow looked very wrong.

When they arrived at the library, Finch was so exhausted that he could barely get up the stairs. Reese knew better than to give him a helping hand, so he restricted himself to hovering closely behind, ready to catch Finch should he stumble.

Bear greeted John in his usual boisterous fashion, jumping onto him and almost knocking him over. The dog knew not to be quite so rough with Harold, and his usual greeting for him was to lick his master’s hand and wildly wag his tail.  But today Bear seemed to sense that Harold was not his normal self, and he just pressed himself against the man’s leg and whined softly.

Finch disappeared into one of the side-rooms, and when he came back he was wearing a crisp white shirt and a perfectly straight tie. Reese was oddly relieved. Some small part of normality was restored at least. Finch sat down in front of his computers and switched on the monitors. Without looking up, he said: “Go home, Mr Reese, there’s nothing more for you to do tonight.”

Reese was very reluctant to leave Finch like this, but he knew that any offers of help would be rebuffed, and so there really was nothing for him to do. He took Bear’s head into his hands and told the dog: “Look after him. He needs you.” Bear quickly licked his nose, then padded over to Harold and rested his head on his thigh. Reese left them, with Harold absentmindedly fondling the dog’s ears while still staring at the screens. He hoped that Finch would go soon as well. Maybe a good night’s sleep was all Finch needed, and things would look better the next day.

Over the next few days it became clear to Reese that Finch wasn’t getting better at all. He slept either badly or not at all, and he was more withdrawn than Reese had ever known him. Finch had never been the talkative type, but he now confined himself to the bare minimum. There was none of that dry humor or the indignant (only half-serious) reaction to his gentle teasing which he had come to enjoy so much. Reese’s interaction with Finch was now very strained, but any attempt to find out what was wrong was rebuffed with a bland “I’m fine, Mr Reese”. This was said in a very quiet tone, which nonetheless made clear that any further probing would not be taken kindly.

Reese felt like they had gone back to the bad days after Finch’s abduction. Then it had taken a lot of patience and gentle coaxing on his part to help Finch get back to normal. This time he could only watch as Finch got worse day by day. Finch was extremely reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the library, he flinched at sudden noises, his pale face and dark circles under the eyes showed that he still wasn’t sleeping, and from the way he moved Reese could tell that he was in more pain than usual. By the end of the second week after the Yonkers incident he was visibly losing weight, and Reese realized that patience and gentle coaxing weren’t going to do it this time. He decided to force the issue.

When he came into the library the next morning, he put Finch’s tea and his own coffee onto the desk as usual. But instead of waiting while his partner finished whatever he was busy with, he brought his own chair round, sat down, grabbed Finch’s armrest and turned him round, so that he had to face him. Finch stiffened in his chair and pressed his lips together in disapproval.

“Mr Reese, would you please…”

But Reese silenced him with a gesture.

“I know you’ve been trying to work through this on your own,” he said quietly. “I can understand that, but it’s not working, is it? Don’t you think that given my experience I could have something to offer that might help someone in your situation? You can’t go on like this, so please, Harold – talk to me.”

Finch didn’t say anything, but he didn’t try to turn away either. Reese took that as a good sign and waited until the other man was ready.

Eventually Finch murmured: “Did you notice that there were two guns?”

Reese knew he was talking about the hotel room. “Yes, an automatic and a revolver. I figured the revolver was the killer’s backup, it was small enough to go into an ankle holster.”

Finch shook his head. “I had the revolver,“ he said, so low that Reese could barely hear him. “I found it in the nightstand drawer. I was pointing it at him when he came in. I had even remembered to check if it was loaded. I could have stopped him. I should have pulled the trigger, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. And he saw it. He knew I wouldn’t shoot, so he just pushed me…” Finch broke off.

“I know you don’t like guns,” said Reese, “and I also know that when you say you don’t like guns it’s not the same as when I say I don’t like Monterey Jack on my pizza. I don’t see why you are beating yourself up over this. It’s as much my fault for never teaching you how to shoot. I’ve had my reasons, but maybe we should give it a go.”

“No, there’s more to this,” replied Finch. He was getting more agitated now. “I might not know how to use a gun properly, but I could have pulled the trigger. It would have been the right thing to do, given the situation. I couldn’t have been more justified for shooting that man. But I didn’t. And why not? Because I didn’t have the courage. Because I was too cowardly to do the right thing. Do you know what this means, Mr Reese? I can no longer trust myself to make the right decision. I have been thinking hard about the future of our enterprise, and more specifically, about my usefulness in it. If I’m too much of a coward to do what’s necessary in one instance, what about next time? I can no longer be relied on. Maybe I never could.”

Reese stared at him. He had had no idea that this small instance had resonated so deeply with Finch and triggered a full-blown crisis of faith. Before he could say anything though, Finch got up from his chair and limped heavily over to his “wall of lost chances” – the list of numbers he hadn’t been able to save. Staring at the yellowing newspaper clippings, he said: “You remember when we first met, I made you experience what it was like to witness someone’s death and not being able to do anything about it. I told you that’s what I experienced over and over – all these people, and I couldn’t do anything to help them.” He gestured at the wall, then turned round to face Reese.

“What if I’ve been deceiving myself? What if I could in fact have done something, but just lacked the courage to do it? How many of these people could have been saved, if it hadn’t been for my cowardice? How many of them would still be alive if I hadn’t persuaded myself that I was helpless to intervene? And all this time it was just a convenient lie, to disguise the fact that I simply shied away from doing what was right.”

He fell silent, and Reese tried very hard to think of something to say. He didn’t understand why, but somehow Harold had persuaded himself that he was a coward, and despised himself for it. One thing John knew for sure was that Harold was entirely wrong about this. When the mysterious Mr Finch had first made his job offer, Reese thought that he simply wanted someone to do his bidding, someone who carried out the actions while he, Finch, gave the instructions – a more skilled version of the two gorillas who had intercepted Reese as he left the precinct. What had convinced him to give this job a try after all was the realization that this strange little man, despite his obvious physical limitations, was perfectly willing to put his own life on the line for the sake of his crusade. Underneath Finch’s unassuming exterior was a core of steel. What Reese had to do now was to convince his friend of this, which he knew with certainty to be true.

He said: “Of course I remember when we first met. I also remember that I was very angry with you and attacked you…”

“I was very frightened then,” said Finch.

“I know you were. I saw it in your eyes. But I also saw something else. I realized right there that you weren’t going to back down. When I let go of you, did you run away? Did you give up on your plan? No, you didn’t. I almost killed you, and you still tried to convince me to take the job. That’s when I first thought that there might be something worthwhile in your proposal. It was the fact that you stood your ground in spite of your obvious fear. “

Finch looked unconvinced, so Reese continued: “The people you couldn’t save – I know how much they are on your mind, how you’ve been torturing yourself with the thought that you couldn’t help them. And you really couldn’t. Don’t you see that?” He turned round and pointed at one of the numbers. "What happened to this one?”

“Prostitute, beaten to death by her pimp when she didn’t make him enough money,” Finch mumbled.

“And this one?”

“A construction worker. Blew the whistle on his boss’s corner-cutting, which resulted in serious safety issues. He was attacked by several men and thrown off the top of an unfinished parking structure.”

“And how do you think you could have intervened? Harold, any confrontation with these killers would have ended with you dead or in hospital. And that wouldn’t have helped anyone. But here’s the thing: when you realized that you could try your best and it still wouldn’t be good enough to save these people, did you give up? You could have declared it a lost cause and gone back to your software engineering or whatever it was. But you didn’t. You changed your tactics and recruited me. In the face of all these failures, all these setbacks, you had the courage to carry on. I wouldn’t be here, you wouldn’t be here, none of this would exist, if you hadn’t had the courage to see it through. Think of all the people who are still alive because we were there to help them – in the end, it’s all down to you, Harold.”

Reese stopped and looked at Finch. Finch was staring at the pictures on the wall and didn’t say anything. Slowly he went back to his chair and sat down, still silent. Reese sighed. He had given it his best shot. He could only hope that it would have some effect on Finch and make him realize that he was entirely mistaken about himself.

Reese went across to the computer desk and took Finch’s tea which was by now stone cold. “I’ll get you a fresh one,” he said, and left the library.

When he came back, steaming paper cup in hand, it seemed like nothing had changed. Harold was sitting in front of his computer, focussed on whatever the screen was showing. And yet somehow the atmosphere was different. Bear, who had been acting very downcast around Harold recently, was lying at his feet, contentedly chewing on a toy. The change in Harold was more subtle, but it seemed to John that he was typing with more energy than before. When he put the tea onto the desk, Finch looked up for no more than a second and said: “Thank you, Mr Reese.” Then he returned to his typing.

John sat down in the other chair and smiled to himself. That brief moment of intimacy, during which Harold had been more open with him than he had been in a long time, was clearly over. All of Harold’s defences were back up, his armor restored, and John knew that no more would be said about the issue. But John could read between the lines very well by now. He had wanted the old Harold back, and this was just the way Harold was – a very private person. And to be honest, John wouldn’t want it any other way.


End file.
